


to reknit the threads of life

by wingedgods



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe- Greek Mythology, Gen, Inspired by Orpheus and Eurydice (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), M/M, very loosely
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2020-11-27 06:15:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20943677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingedgods/pseuds/wingedgods
Summary: Muse—It’s time again to sing of tragedy, of love, of journeys to the darkest realm.Let us sing of the seven true: the hero, the oracle, the demigod, the lover, the disguised, the wise, and the brave.Let us sing of their journey to Hades and Persephone’s realm.





	1. Aphrodite Visits Her Son

**Author's Note:**

  * For [manycoloureddays](https://archiveofourown.org/users/manycoloureddays/gifts).

_ Muse— _

_ It’s time again to sing of tragedy.  _

_ Seven true fought a monster of unspeakable horror, _

_ A shapeshifter with a taste for mortal flesh.  _

_ They fought and we sing that they won.  _

_ But the seven true have now become five, _

_ and how could there be victory when love is fractured.  _

_ Find them hidden in the trees, sleeping the night away. _

_ The hero, who searches for endless punishment to atone for his loss- _

_ The oracle, who seeks to undo every vision she’s been blessed with- _

_ The demigod, son of Hestia, who fears the fire meant to protect him- _

_ The lover, who, cursed for the sharpness of his tongue, lacks his beloved-  _

_ Muse, can we not protect them through the journey they must take, _

_ Muse, can we not promise them those who were taken from them- _

_ One wise but blinded by fear, _

_ One brave but with a back unguarded, _

_ Muse, they were taken too young, taken by Hades. _

_ Let Hades feel remorse, let them bring back those they lost. _

_ Muse, but wait, there is one more, awake and keeping watch. _

_ He is hidden in plain sight; his party knows not his true self.  _

“My son, it is time we spoke.” 

“Mother.” Eros does not look away, keeps watch over the other four. Mike sleeps, radiating the warmth his mother blessed him with. Beverly lays closest to him; only she touches him, her spine aligned with his. Richie sleeps only a few inches farther, his hand stretched out just a hair’s breadth away from Mike’s chest. He murmurs, not even quiet in sleep, not even in still in sleep as his hand twitches, looking for someone. 

“Why does he sleep so far away from the rest of them?” Aphrodite asks, settling down beside her son. She gestures to Bill, who sleeps outside the radius of warmth. He tosses about on his bed of rocks, and Eros longs to relieve him of his pain. 

“He will never stop punishing himself for the loss of his brother. He will not allow himself the comfort of a deep sleep.” Aphrodite sighs. 

“Eros, my love, why are you still here?”

“I cannot abandon my friends in their time of need.” Aphrodite aches at the hardness of her boy’s voice, gone the mischief and joy she knew so well.

“Your year among the mortals is long since up. You stay though it causes you pain. I do not understand why.” Eros closes his eyes. For its true, that over a year ago he decided to disguise himself and live among the mortals. He had grown bored and restless on Olympus and his bow and arrow no longer sparked the same pleasure as before. It had taken some persuading of his mother, careful words to show the importance of a year among the mortals. A rite of passage, and surely his mother knew the importance of a rite of passage.

Mike adjusts slightly in his sleep, not enough to disturb Beverly, just a slight shift of his head, brow furrowed. Eros watches him.

“I have not fulfilled my promise to Hestia yet.” Aphrodite sighs. 

“That is a promise without an end. I should never have agreed.” There’s a scar along Mike’s left thigh, a mark of fire. It never burned him, it kissed him, melted into his flesh like it belonged to him. Hestia’s begging had convinced Aphrodite to agree to Eros’ wish. 

_ Please _ , Hestia had begged like no god should ever beg,  _ He has become afraid of the flame. He can never come home to me if he continues to fear. He’ll stay mortal even in death. Help him find himself again. _

Aphrodite waves towards Mike.

“How is her son?” Eros shakes his head.

“He strategizes and fights like the demigod he is. But he still flinches away from the hearth and Morpheus still allows his dreams to be plagued with the memory of his parent’s death.” Aphrodite sneers. 

“Mortals. Does he still not know the truth? Perhaps he’d be less weak if he knew who his mother really was.” Had she always been so cruel, Eros wondered. Had he been so cruel before he found Mike, before Mike brought him to the others, before they lost Stan and Eddie. The pain in his heart grows and it takes every inch of his divinity to shield it from his mother.

“Who are the rest? I recognize them not.” Eros gestures to Richie. 

“He seeks his beloved.” That piques Aphrodite’s interest. 

“Oh? Is she beautiful?” 

“He is.” Aphrodite nods. 

“How did they come to meet? How did they come to fall in love?” Eros shudders. 

“Mother, it is like nothing I’d seen before. I’ve crafted loves that changed the night sky, but they exist for each other, two halves of a whole. They bicker and fight, hide their heart behind insults, while always being within reach. They circle each other, never more than a step apart. They—” Eros chokes. “They were together when Eddie died and Richie couldn’t--- he couldn’t” Eros’ voice breaks. 

“Could not what my love?” Eros realizes tears are running down his face.

“A curse Mother. To never tell his beloved what lives in his heart.” It broke something inside Eros, watching his friend clutching his beloved as he lay dying, his mouth open and moving, and no words coming out. To witness Richie watching the life leave Eddie’s body without him knowing the truth. 

“Ah yes. I’ve heard of him. Quite the mouth on him I hear.” She watches Richie. “Hermes is quite fond of the boy.” Eros cannot help but chuckle, even as he wipes away his tears.

“That surprises me not, they are kindred spirits.” Hermes and Richie, both radiating chaotic mischief that overwhelms every space they sweep into. Even now, Richie lets word after word fall from his mouth, as if the act of speaking with keep the heartache away.

“Is his beloved who you seek on your journey?” Eros nods.

“Him and another. Eddie and Stan.” 

“What happened?” 

“You know what happened Mother. I do not wish to relive it for your pleasure.” 

“Careful child. Do not displease me.” Her voice is suddenly hard and Eros breathes deep.

“Forgive me, I meant no offense. I am tired.” 

“Then come home. You need not stay.” Eros says nothing. Aphrodite sighs deeply. “Who is the girl? How did she come to be with you?” 

“We found her.” She’d found them. Come running out two minutes too late, screaming. Two minutes too late, and she found them defeated, Bill covered in Stan’s blood, Richie cradling Eddie’s body. She had fallen to her knees weeping. Then she stood up and spoke their victory into existence.

“She was an oracle of Athena.” She is so much more.

“Was? Was she despoiled in some way?” Aphrodite sounded disgusted. Eros thinks of a lie. He must protect Beverly. 

“Yes. She seeks redemption by assisting us.” Aphrodite turns her back to Beverly, radiating disapproval. 

“That leaves us with the hero. Apollo had great plans for him. He is not pleased with his current path.”

“Then he should have protected Bill’s brother.” Aphrodite scoffs.

“You’ve been with the mortals too long my love. You forget that we do not meddle.” Eros wants to laugh and laugh and laugh at this lie his mother has convinced herself of. His mother, who has ruined lives because of her own vanity, cursed women to be the scapegoat of wars. But he is tired, and filthy, and wants to stay in this place. So, he just says:

“I’ll come home soon Mother. As soon as I’m done with this journey.” Aphrodite places a hand on his face, turns it until their eyes meet. She’s as beautiful as he remembers, and he knows that the love radiating off her is not a lie. But he has seen too much, and he cannot let go of the anger. She leans down, presses her lips to his forehead. 

“Be safe, precious one. Even gods have their vulnerabilities.” She kisses him again. “I’ll see that Hermes remains watchful.” Eros can not hold back his grown.

“That is unnecessary, Mother.” 

“Nonsense. I must ensure your complete protection.” He hears her chuckle as she fades away, just as Bill rustles about, beginning to awaken. Eros watches him, his heart heavy in his chest. Bill begins to sit up before he stiffens. He picks something up, and stares at it. 

“Bill?” Eros whispers, mindful of the sleeping others. Bill straightens up, turns back to him. 

“Ben. Shall we change shifts?” Ben shakes his head.

“Sleep more. It is not time.” But Bill is already standing.

“I will not sleep anymore now that I am awake.” Ben can not make out what is in Bill’s hand, what he’s cradled carefully in his palm. 

“Did you find something?” Bill instinctively jerks his hand towards his chest, before slowly extending his arm out. “A grape leaf?” Bill nods.

“I d-d-did-d,” Bill takes a deep breath. “I didn’t know th-th-that there were vines in this area.” They both know there aren’t. Bill brings it back to his face. “It looks like what we grow back home.” Ben hides a smile. He says a quiet prayer of thanks to whoever has blessed his friend.

“Are you sure you don’t want to sleep more?” Bill nods, tucks the memento into his shirt pocket. He silently shoos Ben off the tree stump he claimed as a seat. Ben touches his friend’s shoulder, gently squeezing it, before walking to the sleeping three. He looks down at them, and that feeling in his chest comes back, squeezing and pushing like it wants to escape. He kneels down and curls around them, his head between Mike and Richie, his legs extended out and his left hand reaching out to Beverly. She meets them, sleepily entangles their fingers together. He lets his eyes flutter shut.

He never knew love could feel like this. 

_ Muse, so many stories I have sung to you, _

_ The rise and fall of kingdoms, the brutality of war, the tragedy of love. _

_ But now we sing for the son of Aphrodite himself,  _

_ Eros, the mischievous god of love. _

_ He thinks he knows pain now, _

_ But more is in his future. He will never be the same. _

_ His arrows still are fueled by love, but now they pierce flesh to cause a different kind of pain.  _

_ He learns to kill with the aim of Artemis herself, with the ferocity of Ares himself.  _

_ He learns to love means to protect— _

_ How will he ever inflict this on another again? _


	2. Beverly Shares a Vision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s time now for us to sing of Beverly, Oracle to Athena.  
Leading the seven true with the gift of foresight,  
Fracturing all we know true of time and fate with her every step.

_ Do you remember Muse, _

_ The tragedy of the Cassanda, _

_ Cursed to witness every violence against her city  _

_ and have all truths fall on deaf ears. _

_ It’s time now for us to sing of Beverly, Oracle to Athena. _

_ We called her blessed, but was that hubris? _

_ She saw all that lays before us, _

_ But how can we call the unavoidable a blessing?  _

_ Would it not be better to be as Medusa, _

_ whose curse means they never have to face the gaze of man again, _

_ Then to be as Beverly, who is left to witness in silence the violence of man and beast. _

_ This Oracle though, she seeks to challenge the Fates themselves. _

_ She left behind her temple to complete to seven true, to bring them the gift of foresight- _

_ Though splintered they might be, she leads them to the dark Underworld to the greatest task of all, _

_ To challenge the God of Death himself.  _

_ She has created something new, _

_ She has defied her own patron goddess to create an infinity of possibilities.  _

_ But do not forget oh Muse, _

_ Athena is a vengeful goddess, _

_ She will not take this transgression lightly. _

Beverly has long learned the difference between a dream and a vision. 

She awakens to a metallic taste in her mouth, the smell of decay still lingering in her nostrils. The shape of three figures lay in the periphery of her mind, taunting her.  _ It is fated.  _ They had whispered. _ You will always find your way to us. _

Bill is awake, keeping watch, eyes framed by dark circles. He nods at her, brings a finger to his lips. The others are still sleeping. She carefully sits up, untangling her fingers from Ben’s. She smiles softly at the sleeping boys. They are tucked together: Richie, Ben, and Mike. Ben’s forehead pressed against Mike’s, and Richie’s fingers finding their way into Mike’s tunic. She slowly stands, tiptoes towards Bill. 

“Did you get any rest?” She whispers. He shrugs. She witholds the urge to sigh, instead whispering, “I’m going down to the river.” He gives her a tight smile. 

She picks her way through the trees, running her fingers along the bark. A splinter digs into her fingertip, making it bleed. She brings it to her mouth, relieved. She’s awake. 

She hears the water before she sees it, the quiet rushing of the river. Steps out of the woods, and carefully removes her sandals. Her bare feet sink into the mud, and she savours the sensations, letting her senses run wild, letting her humors regain the balance.

_ It is fated. It is fated. It is fated.  _ The crooning of the three voices, and golden glint of the scissors stay clear in Beverly’s mind. She watches the water move carefully along. 

“Please,” she whispers to it, “I need to find peace, I need to find a moment of clarity. Will you bless me that space?” The water splashes over the river’s edge, pooling at her feet, before receding. Beverly smiles. “Of course, I have an offering for you.” The water splashes out again, this time leaving behind a polished rock, which a sharp jagged edge. Beverly carefully picks it up, and cuts off a lock of her auburn curls. She blows it out of her fingers and watches the individual strands float downstream. The water pools at her feet again, and this time it does not leave her.

“Thank you,” she whispers, relishing the caress around her ankles. She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and pictures the River Styx. 

There’s a slit through her neck. Water filling her lungs. Stabbing in her abdomen. Scratching at her wrists. Blood gurgling up into her mouth. Burning. Bleeding. Pain. Pain. Pain. Death. Death. Death. 

Beverly’s eyes fling open, and she staggers into the middle of the river. The water curls along her knees, trying to wash away her pain. She closes her eyes again.

Bill lost. A shadow in the corner. He always follows. He never comes back.

Mike on his knees. Mike screaming. Mike fighting for control. Mike burning from the inside out. 

Spectral hands reaching up, pulling Ben down. Ben fading from gold to black. Gold to black. Gold to black. Gold to black. 

Richie alone. Richie alone. Richie alone. Richie alone. 

She sinks to her knees. A fixed point. Richie always survives. She focuses on him, on Richie in the darkness. Looking for the one possibility. 

Richie creeping through the caves, Bev along his left. Mike on his right, sword drawn. Ben, a few steps ahead, bow readied. Bill bringing up the rear. Already he’s looking to the shadows, already being tempted away by whispers. 

Hands come from below, drag Ben down. Gold to Black. A snap of the fingers and flames. They can’t find Bill. Mike screams, he’s on his knees. His skin steams, his body shakes, his eyes turning red. His last words,  _ RUN.  _ She’s dragging Richie behind her. Nails drag against her skin, pull on her hair, make her trip. Pain. Across the throat. She can’t breathe. Richie’s alone. She dies with the taste of blood in her mouth.  _ It is fated It is fated It is fated. _

“Beverly! You decent?” A loud nasally voice breaks her trance. She gasps for breath. There’s a taste of blood still in her mouth. There’s pebbles digging into her knees. There’s the smell of flowers along the river bank. There’s still the taste of blood in her mouth and she realizes she’s bitten her tongue. 

Beverly opens her eyes to the sight of Richie, gangly and awkward, waving his arm at her. She smiles, taking note of every piece of him: his tangled black curls, the splattering of freckles across his pale skin, the way his front teeth stick out over his bottom lip.

“I don’t know how you magic types do it at the temple, but us mere mortals, we tend to get naked when we bathe.” Richie waggles his eyebrows and Beverly rolls her eyes. She stands, picking up to bottom of her robe, and twists out some of the water. “If you’re feeling shy, I’d be happy to join you.” Instead of replying, she leans down and splashes Richie, full in the face. He laughs, delighted, the sound closer to what she imagines his real laugh sounds like. He sits down on a rock, pats to space next to him. She wades through the water, takes a seat next to him. 

“Did you sleep?” Richie shrugs. 

“Yes but.” He stops. She turns to look at him. “Do you ever dream something so real that you wake up feeling like you had truly been there?” 

“You just described the majority of my life Richie.” He huffs out a laugh.

“Well let me be the one to say-- that blows Bev.” Richie says, putting on his serious voice, an octave lower, a touch of vibrato emphasizing her name. 

“What did you see?” Beverly asks. Richie shrugs, picking up a pebble and skipping it across the water’s surface. 

“Oh you know. Eds’ m-” His voice cracks. “Bill’s mother.” She gives him a light shove, and he offers her a half grin. “Now my wake up? Talk about a living dream, waking up in the arms of two such glorious men.” He fake swoons, draping himself across Beverly’s lap. She snorts, but does not push him off. “Honestly, did Zeus fuck Ben and Mike’s moms or something? It’s terrible for my self-esteem to be surrounded by all this beauty.” Beverly thinks about Ben fading from Gold to Black, thinks of Mike burning for the inside out.

“Maybe that’s it,” Beverly mumbles to herself. Richie squints up at her.

“What? Your magic oracle powers telling you things I don’t know.” Beverly flicks Richie’s nose.

“I don’t need magic oracle powers to know more than you.” Richie pouts dramatically and Beverly pats his head in faux sympathy. 

They spend a moment like that, enjoying the peace of each other’s presence. Bev focuses on the constant juggle of Richie’s left leg, counts his breaths, uses him to center her focus on the present. Richie gently taps against her elbow. 

“What were you doing in the river anyway? Besides getting wet.” Richie asks. Bev looks him in the eye and considers lying.

“I was looking for what lies ahead.” Richie jerks up, almost falling backwards.

“Did you see them? Did you see Stan and Eddie?” Beverly shakes her head. “What did you see?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know? Isn’t this your thing?!” Beverly closes her eyes, holding back tears.

“I see so many things I don’t understand any of it.”

“Well describe it to me and then we will make sense of it.” 

“No Richie. You don’t understand.” He stands up, glowers down at her.

“Oh sorry I’m too stupid and mortal too possibly to understand your great visions.” 

“No Richie that’s not it.”

“Just. Tell. Me.”

Bev looks at Richie, his jaw clenched, eyes rapidly blinking.

“Bev, tell me.” He says, softer. She tells him.

She tells him of the thread of fate, stretched tight in one direction. She tells him of years of singular visions, singular truths. She tells him on the fraying of threads, twisting out in directions. Choices ever changing, but fates still fixed. 

Standing at the River Styx. The way it hums. The voices that make up its ripples. The whine of Cerebus. The drip of caverns. The whispers of temptation. The screams of death. The gushing of blood. The echoes of death. 

“We die?” Richie’s voice, so soft so small, brings her back.

“We all die except--” She holds her breath. He kneels in front of her, takes her hands into his. 

“Except?” 

“Except you.” She whispers. “Only you survive. Every time, it is just you.” He inhales, his hands squeezing hers tightly. She can feel his entire body shaking. 

“Me?” 

“You.” 

“And you don’t see them at all? You don’t see Stan or Eddie?” She shakes her head. She squeezes at his hands, watching tears run down his cheek.

“Can you? Can you try to see them?”

“I don’t know.” She looks him in the eye, sees the fear reflected in his eyes. 

“Please. There must be something. You said, you said it was different. We could change it. I could change it. Please what can I do?” The desperation in his voice creeps under her skin, finding a resting point in the knot formed in her chest. Something he could do. She closes her eyes, tries to picture them, tries to picture Stan and Eddie standing in front of her, tries to picture anything but their blood.

“Describe them to me.”

“Who?” 

“Stan and Eddie.”

“Why?”

“Just do it Richie. It will help.” She needs it to help. Beverly stands up walks to the middle of the river. “Tell me about Stan.” 

“I don’t know what to say.” 

“Tell me who he is.” Richie closes his eyes.

“He was-” Blood, blood, blood.

“Who he is Richie. Like he’s still breathing.”” Richie sucks in a breath. 

“Stan, he’s...” A pause. “He’s always been here, with me. He’s quiet you know. I guess it’s a little bit shy but mostly he just likes to watch people, to know what’s going on. 

She sees brown eyes, watchful.

“Everyone thinks he’s so serious but he isn’t you know. I mean in comparison to me sure but he’s funny. He’d mutter things under his breath or just drops these lines out of nowhere that would just knock me right out.

A sharp face, curls falling over his forehead, the mouth turned up just a bit to his left, a knowing smirk.

“And making him laugh,like really laugh, is just the best fucking thing. He has this big honking laugh, that you get to hear once in a blue moon.”

Eyes crinkling with joy, head thrown back.

“He’s still rigid you know. I tease him about having a stick up his ass. Even I don’t always know what was going on in that weird head of his but he can read all of us, read me like he was an oracle. He knows so much, sees so much. But he can’t see himself. Can’t see how smart he is. How needed he is. How much we all need him. How much I need him.”

Richie knelt on the rocky floor. The stone luminescent, highlighting the tracts of tears down his face. Persephone, glowing with the blush of warm flesh, looking bored. Hades’ face, shades of grey, bearing a mixture of envy and understanding. A whisk of a hand, and Stan. Stan there standing tall, face perplexed. Richie crashing into him, arms wrapping around brothers. A warning. Stan three steps behind. Richie looks back. 

“RICHIE STOP.” Richie’s mouth shuts abruptly. He blinks. 

“Well?” He asks. Beverly keeps her eyes closed.

“Eddie. Tell me about Eddie.” Beverly is still learning Richie’s movement, his facial expressions, the involuntary gestures of his arms. But she can guess that he’s begun biting his lip, his right thumb tapping against each individual finger in an almost perfect rhythm. 

“Eddie’s.” He pauses. “He’s small and he refuses to admit it. In fact when we find him, he’ll be furious with that that’s how I described him to you and I’m absolutely going to tell him that’s what I did because he’s beautiful when he’s yelling at me. He gets so red, and his eye get so bright.”

Dark dark eyes squinting menacingly. Index finger extend and jabbing at the air like it itself incurred his wrath.

“He can run for ages. And that’s when he was the most Eddie. Running for the sake of running. Fucking feral. And he could outrun all of us. He could probably compete, but his mom had convinced he was always sick.” 

Fingernails bitten off. Permanent line between his eyebrows, imaging an imbalance of humors. Eyes glancing around, anxiously waiting for what’s next. Always moving, twitching.

“I didn’t know there were so many ways to love people. Stan is family, is my brother, more important than blood could ever be. Bill, Mike, Ben, you, I’ve found so different ways to love you all. But nothing feels quite like Eddie.” Richie’s voice had dropped to a hoarse whisper, his tears audible. “You know my curse right.” She does. “I would talk forever around him, talk around what I couldn’t tell him and hope he’d fill in the blanks. That watching him run made my mouth water. That seeing him get riled up because of me made my heart skip a beat. That when lying in the grass, our legs touching, I couldn’t breathe. That when it was just us in the dark and he whispered secrets to me, I wanted to tell him the truth. That he’s the bravest of us all. Brave because even though he always was so scared, he never ever stopped. He always managed to be strong. But I couldn’t tell him that without also telling him that at any moment, in any place, I love him.” 

Richie kneeling again. Persephone leaning forward. She listens, reaching out to Hades, who looks at her, only her. A quick glance between lovers, and Eddie is running. He skids to a stop in front of Richie and rests his forehead against Richies. Their lips move simultaneously, words overlapping. A laugh, Eddie’s dimples showing. A warning. Eddie just one step behind. Richie-

“RICHIE DON’T LOOK BACK.” Both Richie’s look back. 

“Um don’t look back at what.” Beverly falls forward, fingers digging into the river bed. Feels the textures of the sand, counts two rocks beneath her left palm. She’s cold, half her body drenched by this river. There’s nothing left to see. She looks up at Richie, who fidgets under her unfocused gaze.

“Richie, you can’t look back.” His shoulders hunch. 

“Ok?” Her eyes flutter shut once more. The water gathers around her, comforting her.

“It’s time to talk to the others.” Beverly leans back down, whispers “Thank you” to the river’s surface. The water brushes against her face and something round pushes against her hands. She picks it, looks at it, a small blue marble. It reminds her of Bill.

She pushes herself up out of the water and walks back up the river’s edge. Richie grabs her left hand, squeezes. She lets their fingers entangle. Richie starts chattering, filling up the quiet as they walk back. He talks about his stomach growling as the twig snaps under his feet, about how there’s a spot in between his shoulder blades that always itchy well not right now but usually as a bird sings to her babies, talks about who would win in a fight between Ben and Mike as the murmur of the campsite becomes audible. 

“Why would I be fighting Ben?” Mike asks, as they approach. Ben nods. 

“I’m a lover not a fighter.” He says, more sincerely then Bev expects. 

“Ben would win.” Bill says with such certainty that the entire crew turns to look at him. He shrugs. “Ben would definitely fight dirty if it came to that.” Ben just winks and Richie laughs delightedly. Bev takes a seat next to Bill, who offers her some bread. She takes a large bite and studies Ben, looking for signs of gold. He notices, raising his eyebrows at her. 

“You sleep ok?” Ben asks. Bev nods. 

“Mike is better than a blanket,” she says, mouth still full. Ben wrinkles his nose and looks away. 

“Oh Mike is much hotter than a blanket,” Richie says. Mike throws a rock at Richie, purposely missing but Richie still screeches. Bill pokes at Bev’s knees. 

“You’re all wet. Want me to build a fire?” 

“No I’ll be fine. The sun will dry me fast enough.” Bill nods before standing, brushing the dirt off him. 

“We should be heading off soon.” 

“Wait.” He turns to look at her. “We need to talk.” 

“Can we talk while we walk? We still have a ways to go.” 

“Bill, listen to her.” Richie says. Bill looks between the two of them, before sitting back down. Mike and Ben scooch closer to her. 

She watches how the boys move, how they gravitate towards each other. Ben and Mike had been sitting with their knees just a hair apart, but as Bev spoke of the paths ahead of them, they began to press against each other. Ben’s body moving forward, into Mike’s space, a protection barrier. Mike placing one hand on his scarred thigh and one hand on Ben’s shoulder, stabilizing himself. Bill flinched away from Richie’s hand attempting to comfort him, but he still aligned his torso against Richie’s hip and thigh. Bev felt the phantom cut against her throat, then a nudge against her foot. Ben sliding his left leg out to rest his foot next to hers. She focuses on that sensation as she continues to end. Richie alone. Richie looks back. 

“That’s it. We die. Richie doesn’t.” She looks up at Richie. “And you can’t look back.” 

“Bev I can’t go.” His voice is rough, his heart stuck in his throat. “I can’t sacrifice you all for them, they would never forgive me.” 

“Richie-” Bill starts, but Richie roughly shoves him. 

“Bill no.” Ben shakes his head.

“How is this possible? How is there more than one fate?” Ben look her in the eye, and she knows the root of his secret, the edge of gold hidden behind his eyes. 

“I don’t know. I know there’s multiple paths. But the fates stay the same. We reach the River Styx. We cross. We reach the underworld. We die and Richie survives. 100 different ways, 1000 different choices, but still one fate.” Ben is studying her, mouth open just slightly. 

“What did you do?” His lips read and Beverly wishes she knew. They stay in place: Bill and Bev on the rock, Mike and Ben in the dirt, Richie pacing between the pairs. Moments past as they weigh their own lives against their friends. Bev weighs her life against the idea of Stan and Eddie, of who she thinks either of them could be. If they can just get Richie to just not look book then maybe--

“Wait.” Richie stops short. “What if there was another way.” Beverly begins to shake her head.

“I told you Richie--” He waves his hands impatiently. 

“No no not like that. But another way into the Underworld?” 

“What are you talking about Richie?” Bev asks. 

“You said the River Styx. We cross the River Styx and then everything goes to shit. What if we went another way in?” 

“Another way to the Underworld? Richie what the hell are you talking about?” Richie holds his hands up.

“I know it sounds insane, but I have a friend who maybe could help. He has a shortcut.” Ben groans.

“I really hope you aren’t talking about who I think you are talking about.” Richie looks surprised. 

“I have no idea how you know but he’s not /that/ bad.” Mike raises his hand. 

“I for one would like some clarification.” Beverly and Bill nod in agreement. Richie scratches the back of his head, looking a little embarrassed.

“I’m kind of friends with Hermes.” Ben’s head rolls forward and smacks against his knees, groaning even louder. The rest of them just stare gobsmacked at Richie. “I mean I guess he’s my patron god. And sometimes he helps me with pranks and stuff.” Bill points at Richie. 

“Wait, that time with my pants--” Richie nods, jaw clenched trying to hide his smile. Bill swears under his breath. MIke looks at Ben, eyebrow cocked. 

“Gonna tell me why you’re so mad about this.” 

“I’ve… I’ve had a run in with him. He just annoying ok.” MIke and Bev exchange a look. He knows, she thinks, knows Ben isn’t quite who he seems. 

“He’s not that bad.” Richie insists.

“Of course you think that.” 

“Hey I take offense to that.”

“It was supposed to be offensive.”

“Can we pl-pl-please stay on task?” Bill asks, annoyed. “Richie, you really think he’d help us? This is more than just a prank.” Richie nods his head. Ben makes a sound of affirmation, head once against his knees. 

“This is the exact kind of chaos he lives for.” Richie points at Ben. 

“What he said.” Bill turns to looks at Bev. 

“What do you think?” Bev pictures a shortcut. Avoiding the River Styx. Creeping in secret. Black. The constant sound of Richie breathing. The warmth radiating from Mike staying stable. Bill re-emerging from the shadows. Ben staying gold. They keep walking. Then black. 

“Maybe.” 

“Maybe?” She closes her eyes, walks through the dark. Walks and walks. 

“Who the fuck are you?” Bev had imagined Eddie’s voice higher pitched.

“Honestly Eddie, you weren’t raised by wolves.” Stan’s side eye is formidable. He studies her, completely still. Eddie fidgets.

“Well where did you come from?” 

“I’m looking for you. We all are.” Eddie bounces up on the balls of his feet. 

“We, who is we? Is it them? Is the rest of them ok? Richie was right behind me is he ok I can’t find him what about Billy and-” Stan clamps a hand around Eddie’s mouth, who keeps speaking, a rant muffled behind Stan’s palm.

“Everyone?” Bev nods. Stan smiles. “We’ll be here.” Eddie wrenches Stan’s hand away from his mouth.

“Of course we’ll be here where else would we go tell those losers not to fucking die.” 

Beverly opens her eyes. All eyes on her. She grins. 

“Eddie says not to fucking die.” Richie whoops, his voice echoing through the forest. Ben, Mike, even Bill join their voices with him. Bev throws her head back, and howls.  _ It is fated.  _ She howls back:  _ Nothing is fated. Not anymore _ .

The yells become laughter. They release everything, the fear, the self-doubt, the secrets, the pain. They release it into the forest, turn it into a song for the satyrs to dance to. They sing their noisy until there is no air left in their lungs and all they can do is gasp.

Bev digs her toes into the dirt, and hoists herself up. She decides to leave her sandals behind at the river’s edge.

“Alright Richie, what do we need to do?” Richie looks around. 

“How far are we from the mouth of the River Styx.” Bev points westward. 

“If we leave now, and don’t stop to rest, we can make by evening.” Richie nods. 

“Let’s keep going that way. When we reach the mouth, I’ll make my offering.” The group, in agreement, begins to pack up. Bev turns to Bill. 

“I think this is for you.” She places the marble in his palm. He brings it up to his face, studies it. 

“Where did you get this?” He asks. His hand comes up and pats his chest, checking for something out of sight. 

“The river gave it to me. Do you recognize it?” He nods turning it around. 

“Thank you.” He whispers, before hiding it away. She touches his arm, before standing up. 

Bev leads the way, Ben just to her right. Mike, Bill, and Richie follow behind.

“Richie,” Ben asks over his shoulder. “I’m afraid to ask but what exactly will your offering be.” 

“I’m sure I figure it out by the time we get there.” 

They don’t notice their audience as they leave. Athena stands a few yards behind them, watching. Her eyes focus in on Bev, taking in her long confident strides and the clarity in her gaze forward. Her grip on her spear tightens and her upper lip curls up in disgust. 

“I will not be denied my vengeance, sister.” Aphrodite emerges from the shadows. 

“I deny you no such thing. I just ask you for a little patience. My son’s life is in her hand.” Athena snorts. 

“Has Eros lost his way so much that he would die with mortals?” Aphrodite bares her teeth. 

“You will watch your tongue.”

“And you will stay out of my way.” In a flash, Athena wrenches her spear up. She pivots and readies to throw, the spear pointed for Bev’s next step. She shrieks as her spear burns her hand and she drops it on the ground in front of her. 

“Now now, surely we can talk this out.” Hermes is heard before he is seen, his silky voice followed by a soft breeze. He saunters into view, and offers a quick wave. 

“She betrayed me, her vows. She must be punished.” 

“And she will be,” Aphrodite says, voice soft, reassuring. “But first, she must lead them onward.” 

“It is fated.” Hermes lies. Athena scoffs. 

“Do you forget what I am the Goddess of, brat? I know just as well as you she’s ruined everything.” 

‘Yes, but don’t you want to see what is going to happen?” The group is almost out of site, their voices barely audible. Athena clenches her teeth. 

“Fine. I will wait until the journey is over.” She vanishes from sight. Hermes looks over at Aphrodite.

“Wow, I thought that would be a lot harder.” Aphrodite rolls her eyes. 

_ Muse, do you remember the words of young Herakles, _

_ unafraid to declare, “The Gods are Stubborn. So am I.” _

_ Even Herakles, with the strength of Zeus, would tremble in front of this Oracle of Athena.  _

_ She has the threads of fate within her grasp, 5 entangled and not quite matched- _

_ She will make the Gods bleed for the wise and the brave,  _

_ to reknit their threads into a perfect braid. _

_ The tale of Beverly has just begun,  _

_ she will change the world to come,  _

_ if the Fates don’t stop her first.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bev is such a difficult character for me to write, because she's set up to be a love interest and/or mother figure and I don't want her to be either! Hopefully I managed that. I'm currently experimenting with improving my writing of the senses and would love feedback! I love if you share any parts/sentences that worked for you and didn't work you.
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are most appreciated! Hopefully Chapter 3 won't take too long to be finished.

**Author's Note:**

> This was the brainchild of my favorite gal and writer @manycoloureddays, who let me run wild with it. Love you boo. The title is inspired by "Orpheus & Eurydice" from Ovid's "Metamorphoses."
> 
> This will be around six chapters. I cannot promise regular updates, but I hope to have it finished in the near future.
> 
> Kudos & Comments are always the most appreciated! I'm also on tumblr @borromini.


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